Blowing Smoke (Harry Styles)

Chapter 23

Harry let me aimlessly through the outlet mall with the sun blazing down, rising my body heat to an inhuman temperature. The blouse that I was wearing was light, so I didn’t get too hot, but  was certain that Harry was on fire in his black leather jacket that seemed to slump his posture with its weight.

"Here." Harry broke our silence and pointed at a shop up ahead. 

The shop was called Will’s Protective Gear. I assumed that when Paul said for Harry to take me shopping that it would be for clothes, but now looking at the name of the shop, I assumed that it was for the necessity protective gear. 

We walked up to the store, Harry holding the door opened for me politely. I was relieved when I felt the air conditioning that radiated through the shop, relieving my hot body and burning head. 

I looked around the small shop and stared at all of the weaponry and proactive gear that hung on the walls. I was in awe by the amount of damage that this one place could cause on a human life. There were guns, bombs, knives and other terrifying metal contraptions that could probably rip the flesh off of someone’s body. 

I felt Harry’s hand go around my wrist, with ease, pulling me from my trance and dragging me along towards the counter on the opposite end of the room. 

A burly man sat behind the desk, staring down at a Playboy magazine. He looked about forty years old, nearly balding, and quite greasy. 

"Eh! Will!" Harry called to the man, getting his attention as we walked towards the desk. The man looked up from the magazine with furrowed eyebrows in confusion when his eyes landed on me. When they shifted to Harry, they widened and he smiled brightly.

"Styles! What can I do you for?" Will asked with a big grin. His voice was very deep, deeper than anyone I have ever met. He eyed Harry with a smile as Harry approached the desk.

"We need protection for her." Harry answered and patted Will’s greasy shoulder in a friendly way. "We don’t have any protection that would fit her whatsoever so we need to get some new stuff. She needs to be fully armed and geared."

"Who is she?" Will asked and nodded his head at me, smirking as he looked me up and down. "And why are you both so beat up."

"Firstly, stop staring at her like that." Harry warned him. I was shocked by his statement. "Secondly, she is Monreau; the newest Westsider. We’re beat up because she had her training assessment and I was her coach."

Will nodded slightly as he looked, at Harry. I didn’t know how casual the Westsiders were with letting people know who they are. 

"So just get her whatever she needs." Harry sighed when Will was quiet. "Whatever she can use to kill and protect herself."

"Let’s get her fit for a chest plate first." Will muttered and came out from behind the desk.

He walked over towards the wall that had many many plates of chest armour. It reminded me of one that I would see a knight in my imagination wearing. 

"So let me measure you, sweetie." Will offered and held out a measuring tape to me.

"No." Harry protested. "I’ll do it. She probably trusts me more."

He was right, I would much rather have Harry measure me rather than this creepy Will guy who I didn’t even know.

I held out my arms, my bicep which had the marking on it flexing from soreness. I had kept the gauze around my marking, not wanting to remove it and ruin the mark. 

Harry took the tape from Will who watched us curiously. Harry held the white clothing measuring tape in his hands and set it around my hips. He moved quickly, trying to get the awkward moment over with.